09x12 - Depressing News

Episode transcripts for the TV show "M*A*S*H". Aired: September 1972- February 1983.*
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During the Korean w*r the staff of an Army hospital find that humor helps deal with the difficulties.
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09x12 - Depressing News

Post by bunniefuu »

♪♪♪ (theme)

KELLYE: We've got a lot
of work to do today.

Get that sheet and then
get the mattress...

(chatter)

(grunt) See, David?

There ya go. Got it?

Margaret, how many times
do I have to tell you?

There are no Communists
under these beds.

Of course not. They're
in the Lenin closet.

Don't you two have anything
better to do than bother me?

No. There's a lull on.

Bothering you is
the high point of our day.

Hawk, forget her.
Look what I see.

They haven't shipped
Oldham yet.

Oh, goody.
Let's go make round.

Hmm.

(humming)

‐Hi, Oldham. How you doing?
‐Fine.

Oldham, your green
limousine waits.

You're going home alive,
you lucky stiff.

‐Hey, Klinger, relax.
‐Hey, what's the hurry?

Don't rush him. You haven't
visited our gift shop yet.

At least let us give you
one more sh*t for the road.

Too little too late,
doctors.

Oldham,
your personal effects.

This is mine.
That you can have.

Sure, great. I can always
use a little twine.

(chuckles) That's not twine.
I was in demolition.

‐It's Primacord.
‐Prima who?

Primacord.
It's an expl*sive.

‐Uh, oh.
‐Oh.

Uh, look, uh, we're,
we're a little bored,

‐but let's not blow
things out of proportion.
‐(chuckles)

Relax.
This stuff is safe.

It needs something else
to set it off.

You mean like trembling?

No. Like blasting caps
or a hand grenade, a b*llet.

‐Why don't you take
that stuff outside?
‐Yeah, put it in the,

‐Safety shed.
‐Yeah, but, uh,
try not to make a mess.

(humming)

‐Hello, Major.
‐Oh, Father Mulcahy.

Doing laundry, are we?

Yes, there's laundry
here in the laundry room.

Ah, washing your clothes.
What a novel idea.

Well, that's something
I could do.

Well, I'll be through
in half an hour,

and then it's all yours.

Oh, thanks. It's a shame
I did mine last night.

You're really just bored,
aren't you, Father?

‐Well...
‐I don't understand it.

You men have no initiative.

I don't have the time to do
everything I have to do.

Oh? Do you have a lot to do?
Like what? Maybe I could help.

I've gotta do my nails,
take a shower,

set my hair,
rehem my nightgown,

not to mention
curling my eyelashes.

I think I'll do
my laundry again.

You can never get
those collars too white.

(machine whirring, thumping)

Klinger, I gave you
the afternoon off.

Why are you burning
the midday oil?

Time is money, sir,

when you go
from rags to riches.

Come again?

This mimeo machine
is a gold mine.

I'm gonna make
a fortune with it.

I admire
your taking up a trade,

but grinding out greenbacks

is something the feds
frown on.

Oh, no, no. Not me, sir.

I learned my lesson
from my uncle 7199199.

This is honest work.
Dateline: Korea.

Max Klinger goes to press.

"MASH Notes."
Oh, a newspaper.

I didn't know
you had printer's ink
in your blood.

More than a printer, sir,

a publisher,
a magnate in the making,

another
William Randolph Scott.

Whoa, Willie.
What makes you think

there's gold
in them thar pages?

Don't you see, sir?

The stuff you print this on
grows on trees.

And people need
a new one every day.

I'll be rich beyond
my wildest schemes!

It's like a fever
with you, isn't it, son?

You can't resist a scam.

Scam?
Take a glance at that, sir.

"w*r Ravages Countryside."

Quite a scoop.

How'd you like to be
the first on your block
to subscribe?

Because I like you,
I'm prepared to offer you
a special discount.

You were planning
on charging money

to the man
who's granting you

the ink, the paper,
and the printing press,

not to mention
the use of the hall?

Congratulations, sir.

You've just qualified
for our special irate rate.

You have your choice,
free, gratis or on the house.

Well, if you'll
excuse me, sir,

I'm off to find some
paying customers.

(mimeograph whirs, stops)

"Today's weather.
Cold, possibly hot.

‐Chances of showers or not."
‐(vehicle door slams)

(chuckles)
Can't argue with that.

Excuse me, Colonel.
I'm from I‐Corps Supply.

Where's your clerk?

Oh, he's out muckraking.
Suppose I pinch‐hit.

Uh, sure thing.
I got a shipment
of tongue depressors.

Oh, good. Been waiting
for those gullet pokers
for donkey's years.

I'll come and get 'em.

Are you gonna do this
by yourself, Colonel?

Don't think of me as old,

just as somebody
who has seen a lot.

No offense, Colonel,

but, uh, this is
kind of a big job.

Sonny, the day I can't lift
one box of tongue depressors

is the day I turn in these
boots for a pair of mukluks.

One? Uh, there's more
than that, sir.

So I'll make two trips.

With a forklift, maybe.

Sergeant, how many
of these parcels

are checking in
to this post?

Uh...

Uh. Uh‐huh.

Uh. Uh.

Uh? What are you,
kidding?

Me, advertise? Huh!

I can think of better ways
of spending two dollars.

It's not spending.
It's investing.

With the flock that's gonna
come flocking in,

you'll need a duffel bag
for a collection plate.

Oh, very well, Klinger.
I'll take the ad.

‐Terrific.
‐Always willing to help

an enterprising young man
get a start.

I got the whole thing

beautifully designed
in my head.

I'll tell you
how it comes out.

Won't I
be able to see it?

You want to see it!
Oh, foolish me.

I completely forgot
to mention subscriptions.

‐Subscriptions?
‐Glad you asked.

Because I like you,

I'm instituting a
man‐of‐the‐cloth discount.

My special pearly rates,

two dollars a month
or $25 a year.

All right! All right,
all right.

Here's another
two dollars.

Thank you, Father.

One more dollar,
and we're even.

What? I thought you said
two dollars a month.

That's for subscriptions.

Now I gotta raise
the advertising rate.

Circulation just doubled.

Klinger, how would you like to
see your circulation cut off?

Wonderful. See? Another
satisfied customer.

Congratulations.
You just committed
a very original sin.

Okay, Captains,
you've had enough time
to peruse the news.

Because I like you‐‐

Hold it.
Here's your two bucks.

‐Thank you very much.
‐Let's get out of here

while we still have our pants.

Two dollars down. I'll
bill you for the balance.

‐For the what?
‐What?

Hey, guys, we're in Korea.

I gotta charge you
another dollar

for foreign delivery.

‐(laughs)
‐For this?

"A journalistic
tradition since 5:00"?

Forget it.

Say, Igor.
You can read, can't you?

Uh...

Wait a minute.

I remember signing
that requisition.

In fact, I gave it
the once‐over twice,

and it was for 5,000.

Sorry, sir. My voucher's
got two more zeros on it.

Son,
only a cockeyed baboon

would order
a half mil of these.

Use your God‐given
gift of reason.

Colonel, I'm in shipping,
not thinking. So long.

Oh, the new neighbors
must be moving

into that vacant tent
down the block.

Gee, I hope they have
some kids my age.

There is no humor
in this, gents.

That dumb trucker
just stuck us

with 500,000
tongue depressors.

(laughing) No wonder you look
so down in the mouth.

500,000?

I'm gettin' too old for this.

I should've taken
the severance pay in '28,

started that dude ranch.

Damn zoning laws.

We can make thousands
of little rafts

and have a regatta
in the cesspool.

‐You believe this?
‐(Laughing)

There are enough tongue
depressors here
to last five years.

What's so funny
about that?

‐What do you want?
‐Terribly sorry,

but I'm on a mission
of mercy.

‐Mission denied.
‐Glad you asked.

I'm here on behalf of all
the nurses in this camp

who'd give their eyeteeth
to look just like you.

Klinger, why are you doing
this? Do you like K. P.?

Surely madam knows
of my sincere sincerity.

To me, the words
"Houlihan" and "hubba‐hubba"
have always been synonymous.

‐Oh, yeah?
‐You are a vision of
great loveliness,

even dripping as you are.

If there's a point to this,
get to it.

I have unanimously
chosen you

to be the beauty editor
of my paper.

Your paper what?

Paper news. MASH Notes.

Read it at your leisure

and imagine how much
better it would be

with your very own beauty
column, "About Faces."

‐That's cute.
‐With your pen and my paper,

we'll combine
to keep Korea beautiful.

Well, I could probably
throw together a few
well‐chosen words.

Bless you, Major.

And now for the
press de resistance,

uh, seeing that you're
on the editorial board,

I am authorized to offer you
a special subscription rate.

Subscription rate? I'm gonna
have to pay for this?

A mere three dollars a month
or $50 a year.

Just between us,
I can honestly say

I'm not offering this price
to anyone else.

Well, I'll try it
for a month.

Splendid. Welcome aboard.

You can turn in your check
with your first column.

Half a million
tongue depressors.

You know how depressing
that is?

Why do you always see the
olive drab side of things?

The army didn't intend
to send them all here.

Haven't you ever heard
of a snafu?

Snafu, phooey.

We wouldn't have this supply

if they didn't think
there'd be a demand.

Tongue depressors,
doctors, soldiers...

We're all the same.

Trapper John goes.

No problem. There's plenty
more where he came from.

B. J. Hunnicutt‐‐

same size, same shape.

Frank Burns out.
Winchester in.

Just a hair's difference.

Henry Blake.

Rest in peace, Henry.

Incoming, Sherman Potter.

(sighs)
My God.

Hasn't this elimination
tournament gone on long enough?

Do they have to stock up so it
can last another five years?

So what do we do?

Burn all
the tongue depressors

and bring the w*r
to a halt?

♪♪♪ ("Should I?")

(laughs) Why, pray tell,

should I subscribe
to a newspaper

published by someone
with the intellect of a shoe?

Major, it takes a pretty smart
man to know he's an idiot,

which is why I've hired
experts in their field.

Klinger, I have absolutely
nothing to do,

and you are interrupting me.

Sir, I am talking
bona fide experts!

Major Houlihan
covering the beauty b*at.

I myself am doing a piece

on how to keep
your crap game afloat.

And then there's Igor's
gourmet cooking column.

‐Whose gourmet column?
‐Th‐‐

Igor. Igor Straminsky.

That beady‐eyed simpleton

is writing a column
about gourmet cooking?

Nobody knows more about
that stuff than Igor.

Lucrezia Borgia
knows more!

An unsuspecting reader
might get the impression,

that Igor's recipes
could somehow lead to food.

Mmm. I see what you mean.

But who else could possibly
write a gourmet column?

You myopic moron. I could.

‐Could what, sir?
‐Could write a column
about cooking!

You? Major, I'm flattered.

But it's too late.
Igor would be crushed.

Crush him.

You will earn
the eternal gratitude

of all people who eat.

Well, in that case, Major,
welcome to the masthead.

And because you are a member
of our editorial board‐‐

‐Yes?
‐I am authorized

to offer you a special
subscription rate:

five dollars a month
or $75 a year.

(laughing) Klinger,
you rapscallion.

If you think I'm gonna
pen a column

and pay you
for the privilege,

you're dumber than you look,
and that boggles the mind.

Does that mean you're
not writing the column?

In spades.

Well, maybe that's
for the best.

Igor's already turned in
his first recipe anyway,

Boston clam chowder.

Boston...clam chowder?

Oh, yeah, yeah.
Oh, it sounds delish.

Let's see. You take
a bucket of canned clams,

add four boxes
of powdered milk...

(groans)

Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Watch where you're goin'.
What're you doin'?

Sorry! Sorry, Captain.

Excuse my impertinence,

but if all these sticks were
laid end to end, and they are,

what would they be?

They would be, and are,

the foundation
for the Washington Monument.

Don't they already have
one of those someplace?

It's completely different.

That one commemorates
Washington the man

who crossed the Delaware
and gave us wooden teeth.

This one commemorates
Washington the place,

which sent us
across the Pacific

and gives us wooden legs.

Excuse me.

My nose for news thinks
it smells a story here.

They sent us half
a million of these things,

which is monumental stupidity.

So I'm building
a monument to stupidity,

made out of tongue depressors

and dedicated
to all the wounded

who have passed through here.

‐Can I quote you on that?
‐What do I care?

I'll put word of these
tongue depressors

on everyone's lips.

Wow! This story could win me
the Wurlitzer Prize!

Composing room,
hold that front page!

"Daffy Doc Sticks Out Tongue
Depressors at Washington."

Huh? Huh? Whoo‐hoo!

KINGER: Look here! Look here!
Read all about it!

Tongue Depressor Tower
Makes MASH Folks Say "Ah"!

Morning, sir. Buy a copy
to read on the way to work?

I'm a subscriber, remember?
Except this morning

all I found on my doorstep
was doorstep.

A thousand pardons,
O Petulant Patron.

We're still breaking in
our circulation department.

‐Here's your replacement copy.
‐Thank you.

That'll be 10 cents, please.

Ten cents?
I paid for a whole month.

Newsstand prices.

How'd you like your first
insurance fire?

Ah, sir. You drive a bargain
right through my heart.

Get me the city desk!
Newsboy Robbed
by Desperado Doc!

Hi, guys.

I didn't know this was
a "Father" and "My Son"
project.

These are the names
of all the young men
who've been through here.

What do you think, Beej?

Simple, understated,
yet futile.

You'll be happy to know

you pushed the bowling scores
right off the front page.

Three cheers
for the fourth estate.

Well, now people will know
what you're trying to do.

By the way, what are you
trying to do?

I don't know.
Maybe nothing.

Well, you're certainly
off to a good start.

‐(laughing)
‐Shh!

‐"C. Emerson Winchester's
Thought for Food."
‐Just a working title.

(smacks lips) "Duck a l'orange
Beacon Hill style."

‐Why don't you just call it
"Duck a la Chuck"?
‐Do you mind?

Just 'cause you're
writing about food

doesn't mean you get
to bite my head off.

I'll just sit over here
and do my crossword puzzle.

Let's see.

"A nine‐letter word for my Uncle
Bustaffa's middle name."

Evening, busy beaver.
How goes the dam buildin'?

‐Working my tail off.
‐So I see.

You didn't answer
the dinner bell.

No time. No time.

Now, how do you expect
to keep up your strength

if you don't chow down?

But as the saying has it,

if Muhammad won't
come to the meat loaf‐‐

Ah, what the heck.


Even Michelangelo sent out
for pizza now and then.

That‐a‐boy.

You know, some folks would say

you're wasting all that
stick‐to‐itiveness on sticks.

What you're so delicately
trying to tell me

is that I'm nuts, huh?

Oh, I wouldn't go that far.

We all of us need
our little hobbies

to keep from goin' loco.

I have my palette and paints.

Klinger has his headlines
and deadlines.

I think this is a little
more than a casual hobby.

I'd call this a casual
obsession,

a little mania
to help me relax.

Well, then enjoy
your little woodpile.

At least it'll keep you out of
a room with rubber wallpaper.

Well, then I'd
be crazy to stop.

All I ask is that you save

a couple of tongue ticklers
for the customers.

We interrupt this conversation
for a late‐breaking bulletin.

I sent a copy of MASH Notes
to Stars and Stripes

as a professional courtesy.

They want to do a story
about this tower,

and tomorrow they're sending
a couple of guys to cover it.

Would that be World News
or Real Estate?

Put it in Amusements.

Nah, it's bigger
than that.

You're making
a statement here!

You know what this is?

This is the
Leaning Tower of Peace.

Hey, I like that.

I'll be your personal
press agent.

Fine. Fine.

Oh, this is the break
I've been looking for.

I'll be a respected member
of the journalistic community.

Free passes to the circus.
Whoo‐hoo!

Say, lad, I didn't
get this morning's copy
of the Klinger Chronicle.

It's right at your feet, sir.
I left it outside your door.

Well, well. I'm glad
to see you're paper‐trained.

You'll especially enjoy
our two new columnists.

Houlihan on beauty
and Winchester on food‐‐

Major additions
to this edition.

New tunes on
the house organ, eh?

And the best
is yet to come.

This is a new column,
starting tomorrow.

"Dear Aunt Sadie."

Who's this Sadie lady?

Yours truly, sir.

It's advice
to the lovelorn.

People are more
willing to bare their
souls to a woman,

so I'm writing
under an assumed sex.

You know, son,
I thought the tabloid trade

was just one of your
passing fancies,

but you've proved me wrong.

You're making this
a going concern,

‐and I'm proud of you.
‐Thank you, sir.

You bet.

Captain, I'd like to present
my esteemed colleagues

from the corps de press.

‐This is Captain
Maurice Allen.
‐Captain.

Call me Maury.
My photographer Ray Tornberg.

Hiya. How are ya?

This, of course,
is my client,

Captain Benjamin
Franklin Pierce
and his tower‐to‐be.

Benjamin,
Can I call you Ben?

So, Ben, this is quite
a piece of work.

You do this
all by yourself?

Yeah, I got in
on the ground floor.

Of course, the chaplain
helped me with the spelling.

Oh, yes, the chaplain.
There's a good sidebar
story in him.

Now, let me ask you this,
Ben. This, uh, uh...

thing here, this tower,
this, uh, structure,

Where'd the idea come from?

Well, we got a shipment

of 500,000
tongue depressors, and‐‐

‐500,000?
‐Yeah.

(laughs) That's more tongues
than you can shake a stick at.

(laughing)

Ahem. What I'm driving at
is, why a tower?

I mean, what are you
trying to say

with this, uh, uh,
thingamabob?

‐Well‐‐
‐It's a tribute

to all the wounded who've
been treated at this unit.

It stands for the fallen.

Terrific. Terrific.

Let me run this by you
one time, Ben.

First of all, of course,

we do the story
for Stars and Stripes.

But that's just
the shrimp cocktail.

Now how about this
for the entree?

We pack up this
whosiwhatsit of yours,

ship it back to the States,
display it everywhere.

A lot of brass bands,
parades.

Great,
great for enlistment!

Doc Gives Recruiting
Drive sh*t in Arm.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

‐Recruitment?
‐Mmm.

I thought you were
with Stars and Stripes.

Ray. Ray, he's
with Stars and Stripes.

Me, I'm Army Information.

‐Oh, really?
‐Mm‐hmm.

Oh, well, that's news to me.

Stick with me, Ben.

We'll get this out
on the A. P., the U. P.,

every P in the pod.

Now, why don't you
just stand right here?

‐Ray, set up a sh*t.
‐Wait, wait, no. Stay, Ray.

I'm really not finished
with this yet,

and besides,
I look just a fright.

Why don't you give me
about an hour to finish it up

and slip into something
less comfortable?

Whatever the doctor
orders, Ben.

Anyplace around here
we can get a bite to eat?

Sure. The mess tent.
Come on.

But I better warn you.

‐The food bites back.
‐Uh‐huh.

Back in 60 ticks, Ben.

It's a date, Maury.

So listen, Maury.
I got a great idea for ya.

You know how, when you
use tongue depressors,

people say "Ah"?

So why don't we
call that monument

the Ah‐ful Tower?

Cute. Cute.

Good. They got java.
I hope it's hot.

Hey, guys, when we get
back to the Great 48,
I'll look ya up.

We're all newspaper vets,
and you know what they say:

you wash my hands,
I'll wash yours. Huh? Huh?

(gasps)
Oh, small world, guys.

Here are two of my
cr*ck columnists.

Taught 'em
everything they know.

‐Hi, staff.
‐You jerk!

You've completely
ruined my column
on facials and mudpacks!

Not to mention my recipe
for duck a l'orange!

Amateur scribes.
Can't stand to lose a line.

‐We're amateurs?
Listen to this.
‐Amateurs?

"Take a mudpack mixture

"and spread it liberally
over the breasts and thighs,

making sure
to coat the wings."

"For orange sauce
to glaze properly,

it should remain
on the face for two hours."

‐You crustacean.
‐Edit this!

Hey, Klinger. Come here.

Ah, saved by the bellow.

What can I do for you
after I've kissed your feet?

You're my press aide.
I want you to press my pants.

Uh, Ben. How's it coming?

Oh, I ran into
a little snag, fella.

Just need a few more ticks.
Come on.

MAURICE: Ben, you must
really be proud

of that whatchamacallit.

Well, actually,
I think of it more
as a big doohickey.

Well, let's get
this show on the road.

Good idea.
You take the picture,

and you write
the thousand words.

Now, Ray, you get about 10,
15 feet from that contraption.

Ben, you scoot
right in next to it,

and darned if we won't
snap this baby.

Oh, wait a minute, Maury.

Let's not make any snap
decisions here.

I tell you, seeing
that monument now,

I mean, you know,
for want of a better word,

just all by itself
like that,

up against the majesty
of that purple mountain,

with those flags fluttering
in the breeze like that,

I mean, that's what it's
all about, you know?

Why don't we just take
the picture from here?

I hear ya, Ben.

‐You know, you're
absolutely right.
‐Yeah.

Ray, let's make pictures.

Oh, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait.

I want to make sure the‐‐
I want to make sure

the breeze catches
those flags just right.

I'll‐‐ I'll tell you
when to snap.

Okay. Ready?

Set?

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Uh, what's all that yellow
rope around there?

That's not rope.
That's Primacord. Go!

KLINGER: Well?

How was I?

‐Smash hit.
‐(Klinger chuckles)

What is going on here?

Dateline: Korea.

Furious Physician
Nixes Sticks Pics.

Uh, B‐Ben, help‐‐
help me out here.

Yeah.

Uh, I'm lost here,
Benny.

Yeah.

You spent
two days and nights

building that...

‐Thingamabob.
‐Whatever.

And now you've blown it
to kingdom come?

‐Yeah.
‐What the devil for?

I think I can help you
with that, guy.

Senseless destruction.
That's what it's all about.

Get the picture?

Just because you want
to k*ll one little story

does not give you the right
to use Uncle Sam's fireworks.

Well, one picture is worth
a thousand smithereens.

Colonel, do the army
regs not say

we're supposed
to dispose of munitions

taken off the wounded,

and have we not
disposed of them?

Not to mention
30 square feet of bottomland.

Aw, what the heck. I doff
my demolition derby to you.

Just replace your divot.

Actually, I'd kind of like

to leave it the way it is.

That hole in the ground

is all I have
to remember the tower by.

Well, maybe this'll
help you to remember.

Pretty good, huh?

Oh, look! That's great!

♪♪♪ (theme)
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